Valor
by Carrp
Summary: "Most of the time I want to drive my sword through your chest," he spat, fixing her with a cold grey stare. Freyja laughed and leaned in so she was mere inches from his face, "Good," she purred, "because the feeling is entirely mutual." Rated M for language and sexiness in further chapters. Follows the Companions quest line. OCxVilkas
1. Chapter 1

**Valor  
**

**Chapter One**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Skyrim or any of its characters.

* * *

Vilkas woke with a groan, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands in a vague attempt to halt the pain pounding in his head. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The bar-maid that had been lying next to him stirred and tried to seek out his warmth. As he pulled on some loose breeches, he let his thoughts wander to the night before. His beast-blood had been raging, and he'd turned to the comfort of mead. He hated being drunk, it always led to messy situations, namely having to deal with the inevitable woman left over in the morning. He let out a long sigh and nudged the girl awake, her ruddy cheeks were almost as red as her fiery hair. She mumbled incoherently and rushed to put on all of her clothes. He grunted at her as she kissed his cheek and ran out of the door. He sat at the small table in the corner of the room went back to cradling his face in his hands.

"Vilkas," his brother's voice boomed in the confines of the stone walls adding to the pain already ricocheting around his skull, "come on, you can't stay inside all day. There is work to be done."

Vilkas looked up to see Farkas grinning at him, "Fine, tell Tilma to set a bath for me."

After getting clean, he pulled on his wolf armour and went out to the courtyard. Ria was trying to slash at one of the training dummies with a greatsword, though no amount of hard work availed her. It had taken him week to get her to hold it straight, and watching her now he wasn't sure if it had even been worth it. She seemed to have forgotten all he had taught her overnight, and he wasn't about to waste another day on a lost cause.

Vilkas resolved to taking the morning easy, he poured some water from a jug on the nearest table into a tankard and rounded the corner, proceeding to sit down on the slope by the stairs at the front of Jorrvaskr, dangling his legs over the small stone wall. He was spying at the people below, going about their daily lives when he saw a person he didn't recognise. It was woman, she wore a simple set of hide armour, but with a tunic beneath the leather vest, so it wasn't as revealing as the set Njada often used. She had an iron shield on her hand and a war-axe at her hip. Her light brown hair was loose, save for two braids on either side of her face that were pulled back so they circled her head. He couldn't see her face from the position he was in, but she was following Fralia Gray-Mane into her house.

He finished his drink and leaned back so he was lying on the grass, he lay like that for a few moments before a shadow loomed over him. Olfina, one of the Gray-Mane children was smiling at him, "Mind if I join you?"

"If you must," Vilkas replied, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees, "I saw a stranger with your mother earlier."

Olfina blinked at him for a moment and furrowed her brow before answering, "Was it a woman?"

He nodded and she rolled her eyes, "That's Freyja, she's staying at the Mare. I think she's some sort of mercenary, found Amern's sword for him." She looked up at her house and clenched her jaw, "speak of the devil." she muttered as the girl walked out of the doorway, over to the Battle-Born's home and knocked on the door.

Vilkas smirked at the obvious disdain laced throughout her voice, "You don't like her then?"

"I'm not the only one. Carlotta doesn't either, though I think that's because Mikael has chosen Freyja as his new object of interest, so to speak." He hummed in understanding, and she continued, "She doesn't deny him, I suppose she's too young to understand."

"How old is she?" he frowned.

"She's nearing her twentieth summer. Small for her age, despite being a Nord."

Vilkas nodded and stood, he planned to go and assign some jobs to the whelps to pass the time. "I'll see you later, Olfina."

She smiled and jumped off the wall, walking back towards the market.

It was dusk, and Freyja had been heading back to Whiterun after helping to rescue Thorald Gray-Mane from Northwatch Keep, when she heard the distant roars of a giant. She ran in the direction the noise was coming from and didn't stop until she reached the site of battle. There was a lean woman with bright red hair firing arrows at the huge monster, she was wearing some form of armour that consisted mainly of straps of leather, chain-mail and fur, she had three strips of green war-paint running diagonally across her face in the shape of claw-marks and her height suggested that Freyja and her were kinswoman. Another woman, who seemed younger than the first, clearly Imperial, was slashing wildly at one of the creatures legs. Finally, there was a tall man wielding a steel greatsword, he was practically a mass of muscle so she guessed he must be a Nord as well, with shoulder-length black hair that swung from side to side as he cleaved at the giant's stomach.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Freyja unclipped her war-axe and shield and rushed to aid the warriors. She slashed at the giant's arm, severing a tendon near its elbow that caused it to loosen the grip it held on its club. The Imperial quickly followed her lead, delivering another harsh cut that made the creature drop its weapon all together. It cried out in pain and the red-head sent an arrow straight into the meat of its neck. Now that their enemy was virtually helpless, it only took three hits to the back of the knee to make it crumple into a heap on the floor. Giving an impressive grunt, the man drove his sword straight into its heart. They stood there, breathless for a while before the older woman spoke.

"You handle yourself well, you could make for a decent Shield-Sister." she stated, looking Freyja square in the eye.

Freyja's brow knitted together, "What's a Shield-Sister?"

"Any outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions?" she gave an amused smile and continued, "I am Aela, and this is Ria and Farkas," she gestured to the Imperial and the man, who was smiling at her kindly, "An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honour, and we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough."

_Sounds vaguely like what I do _- _though not so much for honour as enough to pay for my bed for the night_, Freyja pondered, "Can I join you?"

"Not for me to say, you'll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane. The old man can look into your eyes and see your worth. If you go to him, good luck."

Freyja watched as Ria and Aela walked away and back up to Whiterun before noticing that the man had stayed behind.

"Come to Jorrvaskr, be a Companion," he said after a moment, staring deeply into her eyes. He was attractive, in a bulky, typical Nordic warrior sort of way. Although they were of the same race, she was still dwarfed by him, her head didn't even clear his shoulder.

"Maybe," she answered and his face fell.

"I think you mean yes, now let's go," It took a moment for her to realise that she didn't have a viable reason not to, she found his demand endearing, albeit odd, and felt compelled to do as the stranger asked, "but first, tell me your name."

"Freyja," she grinned holding out a hand to him.

He gripped it in his gauntleted fingers and kissed the skin on the back of her hand, "I'm Farkas, but I'm sure you remember that," he flashed her a grin and she blushed back at him, shocked by the contact, though grateful for the small act of kindness. She had forgotten how nice it was to just talk normally with someone.

"Fine then, Farkas. Take me to Jorrvaskr."

He smirked, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the road, "Kodlak is going to like you."

* * *

_A/N Hope you are liked it, reviews are always appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Valor  
**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Freyja was led through town and up a flight of stone steps, into a building that resembled a large upturned ship. She stopped when they entered, and cast a gaze around the hall. There were three dining tables centred around a roaring fire and mountains of food were spread across the tops of each one. Ornate pillars connected the floor to the roof, brilliant red banners adorned the walls and rafters. Despite it's size, Jorrvaskr was warm and homely and she felt instantly relaxed. She hadn't realised that her mouth was agape until Farkas closed it for her. He smiled and tugged her down another set of stairs into the living quarters. He pulled her along a wide corridor until they reached a door at the end, Farkas knocked once and walked over the threshold. He stood in front of her, effectively blocking her from view as he spoke to the two other men in the room.

"This is Freyja, she helped us take down the giant at Pelagia Farm." He stepped to the side and she stood there awkwardly, an emotion that she couldn't place flashedacross the older man's face.

"I'd like to join the Companions," she smiled at him, assuming that he was Kodlak. There was a notable snort from the man sitting next to him, and Freyja narrowed her eyes.

"Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you." She turned back to the harbinger and squared her shoulders. "Hm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit."

The younger man stared at him in disbelief, "Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?" The look he gave regarded her unimpressed from head to toe, lingering a little too long on her chest.

_Yeah, well it's nice to meet you too,_ she inwardly scowled at him.

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts," Kodlak chided.

"Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider," Vilkas replied.

Freyja may have only just met this man, but Gods was he grating on her nerves already. A lovely clean punch to the jaw would be enough to sate her anger, though somehow she didn't think that the others would take it so well. Vilkas had the arrogance of someone in power.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference," the Harbinger looked straight at her again. "What matters is their heart."

"And their arm," Vilkas flicked a glance again to the muscle on her upper arms, and her body gave an involuntary shiver under his scrutiny.

"Of course. How are you in battle, girl?"

Freyja stopped her brooding to answer him. "I can handle myself," she stated, refusing to let either of them think she was weak. She was no seasoned warrior, but she had never been weak.

"That may be so. This is Vilkas, he will test your arm," he hummed, and turned to the man in question, "Take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye." He rose from his seat and headed for the door. Freyja followed him out. Farkas patted her reassuringly on the back when she passed.

Vilkas strode out of the living quarters, through the warm main hall, and out onto a courtyard. She hurried after him, but struggled to keep up with his pace. This man practically oozed authority, and she hated it.

Once they reached the yard, he turned and unsheathed his sword and shield. "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this."

In the late afternoon light, she could see that he was rather good-looking. His armour was obviously expensive, crafted from steel, with a small metal wolf's head decorating the chest piece and belt. He had short dark hair, much similar to Farkas and black warpaint was smeared around his eyes. "Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it."

She steadied her breathing and unhooked her weapon, spreading her feet slightly. He looked at her expectantly and raised his brow. Freyja swung her axe behind her head and brought it down on him with as much force as she could muster. Vilkas rose his arm so the blade made contact with his shield. It made a satisfying clank, and he staggered back a little.

_Not so tough, then_, she smirked to herself.

"Not bad," he growled, replacing his weapons and straightening his back so he appeared ten times taller than he really was. "Next time won't be so easy."

"That's what you think," she quipped. He clenched his jaw, making her bite down on her tongue.

"You might just make it. But you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you." Freyja eyed him wearily and he held out his blade, "Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened."

She reached out and grabbed the hilt. Before she could step back, he pulled her into his personal space, crushing her against the cool metal of his armour. Her breath hitched as she stared up into his grey eyes, feeling completely helpless, "And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are," he said softly, watching her face carefully as she felt her cheeks heat. Vilkas smirked and gestured towards the Skyforge with his hand. Freyja stood there flustered for a moment, as his smirk turned into a fully-blown grin. She opened and closed her mouth before letting out a frustrated cry and stomping up the steps to Eorlund.

* * *

Vilkas watched as the new-blood flounced away. She didn't deserve to be here, she didn't have anywhere near the skill that the others held. If she was going to stay, then he was going to make damn sure she knew that she wasn't welcome. It didn't help that his brother was especially fond of her. It wasn't the time to be recruiting, they had plenty of issues to be addressed and bringing more people in was only going to complicate things. He headed back into Jorrvaskr and was met with the sight of Farkas leaning against the table, being heavily suggestive with Ria. She was crimson and staring down at her hands. Luckily for her, his twin caught his eye and excused himself from the poor girl.

"What do you think of our newest member?" His brother asked.

"Freyja? So far, she's insufferable."

Farkas frowned at him, "I think she's fucking gorgeous."

"Yes, but you think with your cock. She will end up being nothing but trouble, you'll see."

"Can't fault a man for appreciating the female figure," he said with a toothy grin.

"She's better for bedding than fighting."

"I'd rather you didn't compare me to common whore," said a harsh voice, Freyja was standing behind them, with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed, "Farkas, do you know where Aela is?"

His brother could barely contain his laughter, "Sure, I'll take you to her."

"Thank you," she smiled sweetly, "Oh, and Vilkas," she moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and he froze, "fuck you." She tilted her body back and headbutted him right between the eyes. He doubled over and fell to the ground, letting out a long pained groan. Farkas' gigantic frame shook with mirth as he threw an arm over Freyja's shoulder's and led her downstairs.

"Let's get you to Aela before you end up killing him," he joked.

She feigned innocence and widened her sky-blue orbs, "Me? I wouldn't dream of it."

Vilkas placed his forehead on the wooden floor and rocked back and forth. She was trouble alright, pure trouble, and he had the horrible feeling it wasn't going to get any easier


	3. Chapter 3

**Valor **

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"You aren't even trying," Vilkas complained, dropping his sword on the ground. He hated training the new-blood, he was certain she was making his life difficult on purpose, refusing to even attempt wielding a two-handed blade. She had been with the Companions for three weeks now, filling the halls with her sickening laughter and youthful recklessness. She seemed not to take anything seriously.

"I am," Freyja stretched her arms out behind her, "it's this new armour. It's too rigid."

He snorted, "It isn't anyone else's fault that you can't carry any more than hide."

"I just prefer to be quick. Not all of us enjoy lumbering around in steel dresses," she smirked.

"I'm just as fast as you," he snapped, clenching his jaw until it gave a satisfying crack.

"Fine, prove it. No weapons, no armour, just fists."

Vilkas stared at her, "I'll beat you to a pulp, little girl."

"I'd love to see you try." She removed her leather, leaving her in leggings and a simple linen shirt.

"Fine, whelp." He loosened the straps of his chest plate and pulled it over his head, the rest of his armour following soon after.

He threw the first punch, clipping the side of her hip. She stared him down, unnerving him with her eyes. He moved slowly towards her body, ready to wrap a foot around her leg and send to her the floor. When he was within arms reach, she flashed him a wicked grin and kneed him firmly in his groin. Then furiously, she pulled no punches, barely allowing for him to catch his breath. He recoiled, holding out his palm in silent surrender while he tried to slow his heartbeat and ease the pain. The last thing he wanted was to turn in front of her. She set the beast that he usually had complete control over into a frenzy. He grunted when she called his name.

"Oh, Vilkas, come on, you can do better than that," she scoffed. Vilkas straightened and sighed heavily, taking a swing at her. She ducked out of the way, holding her forearms in front of her face. He jabbed her just below her ribs and she yelped like an injured pup, "_Shit_."

Freyja stepped far away from him and rolled up her top to where he had landed his fist. There was an angry red line running across the flat planes of her stomach, whatever wound had been there seemed healed but the skin still looked tender.

"You're such an idiot," he said, raising his brow at her foolishness, "Who in their right mind brawls when they are still healing?"

"I'm many things, Vilkas, but an idiot isn't one of them," she spread her fingers along the hurt area and sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, "Farkas said it would be fine."

He smirked, raising his brow suggestively, "Does my brother often get to have a close inspection of your body?"

It was pointless dig, had Farkas bedded her, he would have been boasting by now, but she seemed suitably angry nonetheless. She glared at him and opened her mouth to reply when Aela stuck her head out of the door.

"Freyja, Skjor wants to see you."

She nodded at the older woman and followed her into Jorrvaskr, sticking her tongue out at Vilkas as she passed him.

"Very mature," he called after her, but she didn't turn around and only held up her middle finger as a reply.

* * *

Freyja tightened the straps on her armour and turned to Farkas, "Ready to go?"

He nodded at her and they set off on their tedious walk to Dustman's Cairn. Skjor had said that this was a test to see whether she was honourable, but she deemed it unnecessary. How many times must she prove she could kill or retrieve whatever these people asked her to? She was grateful that Farkas was the one to judge her and not Vilkas, he certainly would have strived to have her out on her ass by sundown. She had settled into life of the Companions with ease, drinking and fighting were in her blood. When she was growing up in Karthwasten, she often found herself doing the same.

Farkas pulled her out of her reminiscing with a clap on the shoulder. "Here we are, time to show me what you've got," he grinned, unsheathing his greatsword.

Freyja let out a long, shaky breath and headed down the crude stone slabs that were jutting out of the walls. She pressed her hand to the iron door, and it opened under the pressure with a heavy creak. The air inside was damp and stale, and the dust-caked surfaces caused her nose to tickle. They wandered down a small flight of stairs and into a small room. Tombs had been opened and draugr were lying, defeated, on the floor.

Farkas rounded the table in the centre and inspected the books that were strewn across it. "Someone's been digging here, recently."

She shuddered and unhooked her war-axe, "This place gives me the creeps."

He smiled at her and they continued further into the tomb, "Don't you hold any love for our ancestors?"

"The dead don't bother me," she shot a look of disgust to a draugr as it advanced on her, "so long as they stay that way." Her axe found its way in her enemy's back and it crumpled to the floor.

Freyja stepped too loudly through one of the archways and five draugr rounded on them at once, creaking back into life with a bark. Each time they would cut one down, two more seemed to replace it. She escaped with only a shallow cut on her arm and Farkas was no worse for wear, but he was grinning at her.

"Be careful around the burial stones," he pointed to the space around them with his sword, "I don't want to haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back."

"Sorry, I was getting ahead of myself," she said sheepishly, delving further, but more quietly, into the crypt.

There seemed to be endless stone corridors, all tilting down. Freyja couldn't help but wonder how far they were from fresh air, but the thought made her feel as though the walls were closing in on her. She pushed it to the back of her mind and moved her way through a thin curtain of cobwebs. More bodies were lying on the ground as they opened into another large room. There was a fallen brazier to their left, the coals were still glowing a faint red. She walked around a large iron structure and down some stairs, Farkas followed, sheathing his sword when he saw no opponents in the hall. There a was a raised platform with two thrones on it on one side of the room, and he went to inspect it.

"Looks like we need to go through that," she pointed to a closed gate at the other end of the room, "I'm going to look for a chain or something."

Freyja inspected the nearby walls until she came across a small alcove with a lever in it. Confident that it would open the gate, she wrapped her fingers around the stick and pulled. She heard clang of mechanics and turned to see bars sliding down from the archway, trapping her in the area. Farkas looked up from where he was standing and laughed as she rattled the gate with her hands.

"It isn't funny," she whined as he neared her, but he only laughed more. Her cheeks heated and she scowled at him.

"Just sit tight, I'll find the release," he said, shaking his head.

As he was turning, six people, dressed much like bandits closed in on him. Freyja screamed and backed against the wall. One particularly grizzled man whipped his head in her direction and approached her.

"Don't worry, we'll be having some fun with you after he's dealt with," the man grinned at her wickedly and licked his rotten teeth, before returning his attention to Farkas.

"It's time to die, dog!" shouted one of them.

"We knew you'd be coming here," said a small Imperial woman.

_Who are these people?_ Freyja asked herself.

Two of them were bickering over who he was, both clearly stating that they knew he was with the Companions. _Why would anyone want to kill a Companion?_

Farkas back against the iron bars that caged her in.

"Killing you will make for an excellent story."

"None of you will be alive to tell it," growled Farkas, dropping his sword to the ground. Steel clattered noisily with stone and the bandits back off for a moment.

Farkas hunched over, and his body began to twist and reshape, Freyja gasped as the straps of his armour broke and fell to the floor. A think mass of black hair spurted from all over his body, his bones gave audible snaps as they grew and readjusted. His hands became paws, tipped with razor-sharp claws. When he unraveled himself, he stood at seven feet tall and most definitely looked like a wolf.

"A werewolf," Freyja whispered, staring wide-eyed and shocked.

She was brought back to reality as Farkas roared and swiped at the bandits. They recovered quickly, slashing at his arms and legs while trying to avoid his bites. One man waited too long and Farkas pulled him to him, tearing out his throat with a swift move of his head. She didn't seem to notice the rest fall, but they did. Each one was either ripped at the stomach or missing a limb. The sight made her feel queasy and she struggled to keep standing.

The bars in front of her slid up, and Farkas walked back into the room. He was bare apart from a pair of ragged trousers and he was staring at her wearily.

Without thinking, she ran and wrapped her arms around his neck. His skin was hot and comforting as he pulled her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry for getting trapped," she mumbled.

Farkas tilted her head up and looked down into her eyes, "No worries," he grinned, "I hope I didn't scare you."

"Not as much as you probably should have." She stepped back quickly, casting a glance to the bloody line just above his knee. "You're hurt."

"It's just a scratch." In truth, it burned. Where normal metal would have left him feeling a throb of pain, the silver had set fire to his skin and he thought the flesh was melting from the bone.

"Even scratches can get infected. Then you're really screwed."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit on a rock in the middle of the room. She rummaged in her satchel and pulled out a healing potion and salve. Farkas let out a defeated sigh and pulled the bottom of his trouser leg up, to expose more of the wound. Freyja nibbled on her bottom lip as she knelt in front of him and poured a small measure of the potion on his cut. He inhaled sharply through his teeth at the sting but didn't try to stop her as she cleaned the surrounding area with a rag. He watched her face intently, she really was beautiful. Her eyes were a bright azure, with a ring of light grey around them, they were as clear as ice when she was happy, and as misty as the Sea of Ghost when she was sad. He nearly reached up to brush a lock of her umber hair over her ear, when she spoke in her breathy tone.

"Who were those people?"

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, "They were the Silver Hand. Werewolf hunters."

"And you're a werewolf?" She met his gaze, candlelight casting attractive shadows over her bone structure.

"It's a gift given to some of us. We can be like wild beasts, fearsome," he shrugged.

Freyja looked to the floor before she whispered, "Are you going to make me a werewolf?"

He gave a low chuckle and lifted her face with a finger, "No, only the Circle have the beast blood. Eyes on the prey and not the horizon."

He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, she inhaled quickly and went back to concentrating on wrapping his leg in cloth. Farkas smiled at her, he had watched from a distance as she seduced men into bed with a simple flutter of her lashes, yet she always seemed so cautious in her actions around him. He knew she didn't mind sleeping with men in Whiterun, but seemed to draw the line at Jorrvaskr. Farkas planned to make her blur the boundaries, in good time.

When she had finished, she pulled down his clothing and patted his thigh.

"Let's get a move on, there's still the draugr to worry about," she said, finally looking at him.

He kissed her forehead and leant down to breathe in her ear, "Thank you, Freyja."

She stood, spun around quickly and busied herself packing her things. He laughed at her again and pulled on the rest of his armour. After he was ready, they headed through the now-open archway and through more dingy corridors.

More Silver Hands were waiting for them as they progressed, but they were little more than bandits, not hardened warriors. The pair made quick work of them, slicing and blocking until their foe lay dead. As they moved on through the cairn, they were also attacked by draugr, but the bone walkers were slow, and too noisy to be missed. They pushed on through, until they came to a small cave that seemed to be a forced edition to the tomb. Sticky cobwebs were all over the walls and egg sacs clustered in a few of the corners. She heard the padding of the frostbite spider's feet just in time. She shielded her eyes as is spat venom at her, the poison seeped into the cut on her arm. Farkas visibly shuddered next to her. He ran in to attack the larger of the two creatures, and Freyja drove her blade in-between the smaller one's eyes.

"I hate those things," he muttered, kicking one of the spider's legs. The whole body twitched a little and he jumped back. Rolling her eyes, Freyja continued up a ramp and down into another passage. Her legs were aching, and she felt like collapsing on the spot and making Farkas carry on the task without her. When they reach an iron door, he noted the defeated look on her face.

"Come on, we must be near the end now."

She opened the door and was rewarded with the sight of a huge hall. There were three levels, one with tombs lining either side, one with a single tomb in the middle and finally one with a table. Assuming that the fragment would be on the top level, she started to move towards it. She took one step forward, and the sound of stone crashing on stone ricocheted around them. She groaned loudly and bashed her shield into the head of an approaching draugr, it stumbled but only momentarily. She flung herself into the fight, intent on finishing it quickly. Each time her and Farkas appeared to have the upper hand, more and more draugr would emerge from their slumber. It was a seemingly never ending cycle of blocks and blows.

After the last one fell, they stood in silence for moment, double checking that all of the tombs had opened and they wouldn't be snuck up on. Freyja went over to the table and trailed her fingers through the grooves on the fragments of Wuuthrad.

"I'd love to see it whole again," she said, placing each one of the pieces in her satchel with care.

Farkas was looking at the curved wall behind her, but turned at the sound of her voice, "I think every Nord would."

Freyja pointed to the carvings in the wall he was looking at. "What are they?" she asked, standing next to him.

"Words of Power, the Dragonborn is supposed to be able to learn them just by being near one. I heard a rumour that the first one in centuries has returned to Skyrim."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Well, if he's anything to look at, send him my way. Sleeping with a legend would certainly be a story to tell."

Farkas laughed and nudged her towards the exit, "Let's head on back to Jorrvaskr."

She shrugged and headed up a set of wooden stairs. He watched the sway of her hips for a moment before he decided, he didn't care what the man looked like, no Dragonborn was getting his hands on Freyja.

* * *

_A/N Sorry it took me so long to get this one written, hope you enjoyed, chapter four should be done soon enough. I love your reviews, so keep 'em coming. Thanks again to my fabulous beta Heiwako, you are amazing!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Valor**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

When Vilkas staggered into the Bannered Mare, most of the Companions were already there. They had laid claim to the back table were Uthgerd the Unbroken usually sat. It seemed she had moved herself to the other end of the room, but not far enough away for her glares to go unnoticed.

Ria, Athis and Freyja were occupying a bench they had pulled up against the wall, Torvar was passed out in a chair next to them, Farkas was sat to their other side with a girl from Riverwood nibbling his neck and Aela, Skjor and Njada were at the bar. He sighed and dragged a chair over to the spot beside Farkas.

He nodded to the barmaid for an ale just as Freyja planted a kiss to Ria's lips. The Imperial seemed shocked at first, but soon moved to return the gesture. He heard his brother's sharp intake of breath to his side and laughed to himself, he always was easily pleased. When the girls broke away, Ria looked wanton and flustered and Freyja was grinning. The smile faltered slightly when she saw Vilkas, but she nodded hello to him all the same. When she stood from the bench to get another drink, one of the men he'd seen around Whiterun took her place. He held out his hand to Ria and engaged in conversation with her.

The giggling coming from the woman on his brother's lap was grating on his nerves and he wanted nothing more than to get up and leave. He was here to celebrate the new recruit becoming a fully fledged companion, not that she deserved it. Had he been the one to judge her, she would of been out of Jorrvaskr before you could say 'Ysgramor'.

When she got back to the table, Freyja placed her palm to her chest in mock horror as she stared at the man next to Ria, "Sinmir, you hound, first you take my seat and then you take my woman." When he opened his mouth to reply she waved him off, "It's okay, I'll just sit with my dear Vilkas."

He didn't really comprehend what she meant until she sat on his knee and complained that he was too boney.

He looked up to her and grimaced, "What are you doing?"

"Don't even think about pushing me off, it's bad enough that the love of my life was stolen." She took a long drag on her mead and leaned over to whisper something in Farkas' ear. His brother laughed and tugged on a piece of her hair.

"Ria?" Vilkas asked, looking from the lithe Nord on his lap to the curvy Imperial across the table. Freyja sighed deeply and shook her head.

"No," she began, taking another drink and licking her lips, "the love of my life got stolen long ago. Ria simply let slip that she had never kissed a woman and I offered to remedy that for her." She smiled down at him.

_She must be drunk,_ he thought, _she never smiles at me._

He was about to ask her another question when Mikael walked over and put an all-too-friendly hand on Freyja's rib-cage. He said something in a low voice and she shook her head. He heard her say something along the lines of 'keeping her options open' before the young bard pulled back with an impressive pout on his face.

Freyja turned back to Vilkas and fiddled with the front of his tunic, she untied the string at the front and ignored his slaps on her hands. She unthreaded the fabric and used it to tie back her hair, flashing another crooked grin at him.

"Calm down, the girls will love it."

Although it was true that more of the women were looking now that his shirt barely covered his pectorals, he still bristled at her words. "I think they'd love it more if you weren't crawling all over me."

She narrowed her pretty eyes, "Don't flatter yourself, I hold no affection for you."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips into the cocky smirk he knew she despised. "Prove it."

She studied his face for a moment before bringing her mouth to his. He was sure it wasn't happening. That it wasn't her teeth running their way along his bottom lip, nipping and tugging as they did. But the ale had made him bold and he pressed his body into hers, grabbing the back of her head and tangling his fingers into her thick locks, loosening the fastening that held them up. She let out a surprised gasp and he slid his tongue against hers, savouring the taste of honey and berries with each flick. She moved her hands to cup either side of his face and sucked on his tongue. He groaned, feeling the action straight down to his groin. Freyja noticed and pulled back quickly, pushing her palms against the bare skin of his front when he tried to follow.

"See," she whispered, wide eyed and breathing heavily, "I feel nothing."

The bright gleam in her eyes dimmed and she jumped off his lap and ran out the doors of the inn. He sighed as he looked after her,_ bollocks to her and her lies_, he thought, _she felt something_. When he turned around, Farkas was glaring at him. Without a word his brother got up and followed Freyja out, ignoring the whines of the woman he abandoned. Vilkas shook himself and tried to get a hold on his thoughts. He wanted Freyja just like he wanted almost every other woman, to hear them moan his name and tell him that they needed him. Vilkas sat back and winked at the Redguard serving girl, he planned to leave the Mare drunk and completely satisfied.

* * *

Freyja closed her eyes as the cold wind hit her face. She filled her lungs with the clean air, praising the difference from the smokey heat of the inn. She used her sleeve to wipe at her mouth, trying to remove any evidence of the kiss. She blamed the drink. She hated Vilkas, of that much she was sure. Yes, she didn't like Vilkas, not even a little bit. _Then why did you kiss him, you fool? _Freyja groaned in frustration, kicked one of the market stalls and tore at her hair. She wasn't aware that Farkas was there until he started to speak,

"Are you okay?"

She spun around and smiled softly at him. "Of course I am," she said, walking over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders, squeezing at the muscles that were barely contained by his shirt. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Farkas shrugged and kissed her cheek, lingering slightly when she drew in a quick breath. Farkas was such a gentle creature, caring and sweet even when she was being difficult. Yet the look he gave her now was full of pure, animalistic lust. His eyes were trained on her lips, his breath coming in short and fast pants. Choosing to not listen to the voice in her head that was calling her many obscene names, she pulled him to her. He moaned as she crashed them together. Gripping her thighs, he knotted his hands under her backside and urged her to wrap her legs around him. When she obliged, he walked along with her wrapped around his giant frame and laid her back against a stone wall. She moved her hands into his dark brown hair as their mouths continued to work together. He rubbed up and down her thighs, grinding his hips into hers.

"I want you so much, Freyja," he murmured against her lips. "I've wanted you since you helped take down that giant." He broke off and looked into her eyes. "You're so beautiful."

She whimpered and yanked him back towards her, hungrily kissing her way along his jaw and down his neck, suckling for a moment at his pulse. He pulled her hair out of its tie and buried his nose into the waves. He took in the sent of the oils she wore in her hair, each one playing havoc with his beast blood. He could still smell his brother on her, in-between the pine and fresh air there was the dim sent of metal and smoke. He put her kiss with Vilkas out of his mind, later he would hit him, but for now Freyja was his and begging for more.

He lifted her from the wall and carried her up the stairs towards Jorrvaskr. She smiled against his mouth as he fumbled with the door. Sliding a hand down beside her, she lifted the latch and the door opened easily. The main hall was empty, and with the Companions all down in the Bannered Mare, Tilma hadn't lit the hearth.

Freyja brought her lips to his ear and tugged on the lobe. "Hurry up," she breathed, "I'm growing impatient over here." She rocked her hips into him and he staggered a little from the pleasure the friction had caused. He quickly did as she commanded, walking the two of them down the corridor and to his door. He was sure that he heard some movement upstairs but cast it off as unimportant when Freyja outlined his manhood through his breeches.

He set her down on the bed and pulled his shirt over his head before joining her. He tugged at the hem of her cotton tunic, silently begging her permission. She raised her arms and he slipped the shift off. Freyja held her breath when he let out a groan of pure masculine appreciation. He moved his hands from her hips to her breasts and palmed them through the thin fabric of her small-clothes. She moaned, and straddled his hips, bringing her mouth to his once more. When he bit down on the skin of her neck, she had a moment of unwelcome clarity. It wasn't Farkas' face she was seeing in front of her, she was imagining Vilkas.

"Farkas, I can't do this," Freyja said.

Farkas pulled back, confusion etched into the lines of his face.

She cupped his face in the hope of offering some comfort. "I want to, I really do. Just not while I'm drunk. If we're going to do this, it has to be more than some drunken experience."

He sighed and let arms down beside him. "Is it my brother?"

"A little. I can't be with you after immediately kissing him. I'll feel like a whore."

"You're not a whore, Freyja," he said, shoving a hand through his hair. "I just wish I hadn't waited so long."

She kissed his forehead and pulled on her shirt. "Me too."

He didn't say anything else as she got off him and straightened herself out. When she opened the door and glanced over her shoulder, he was still sitting on his bed, smiling at her. She grinned back and walked out onto the corridor.

Freyja patted herself on the back for stopping herself with Farkas, he was too good for her. She'd fall in love and then do something stupid. She always did something stupid, it wasn't any wonder Robb had left her. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to halt any tears that threatened to fall. _He's gone now, he made his choice and it wasn't you_.

She yelped when someone pulled her by the elbow into the wall. When she looked up, Vilkas was staring down at her. She could tell by his breath he was considerably more intoxicated than he was when they left the inn. She shoved his chest trying to get free, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the cool stone behind her.

"Were you with him?" He practically snarled, his eyes were bright and threatening.

"Get the fuck off me." Freyja tried to wriggle free, but his grip became painful. He ran his nose a long her neck and collarbone.

"I can smell him all over you. Move on pretty quickly don't you?"

She yanked her hand away from his and slapped him. Her palm rang with the force of the hit, but Vilkas didn't even seem to flinch.

"Let me go, wolf," she said through gritted teeth.

He faltered a little, narrowing his eyes. "How do you know?"

"Ask Farkas about that."

"Did you fuck him?" he growled, his jaw flitting under his skin.

"What is wrong with you? Why does it even matter?" She was never one for explaining herself, and she wasn't about to start for him. Anger boiled throughout her body and she struggled to contain it.

He held himself against her, his breath was hitting her face in strong blasts. "Because you're_ mine_."

She laughed then, cruel and loud, "I'm no one's. Least of all yours."

Taking advantage of his shocked state, she got out of his grasp and padded back into the whelps room, her body still shaking each time she thought about what he had said.

He shook his head as stared at space where Freyja had just stood. In truth, he didn't know why he said it, it wasn't true. They hated each other. He didn't like spending time with her and she lived to plague him. Confused and tired he stumbled back to his room and hoped to forget the whole night.

_I am no one's, _Freyja repeated the words to herself as she lay in bed, cold and lonely. She never thought about how alone she really was. No one wanted her, not her sister, not her parents, not Robb. She was the only one left, empty and bitter.

Freyja twisted her hair around and tied it up on the top of her head. When she heard the others returning from the Mare, she feigned sleep. She tried to understand what he meant, eventually putting it down to a slip of the tongue, that it wasn't her he thought he was talking to. Soon enough her breathing became even and she slipped off to Oblivion.

* * *

Dawn came quicker than Vilkas would have liked. His breath felt stale in his mouth and his joints were stiff. He stretched his arms above his head, clicking his bones until they settled. He closed his eyes again and massaged his temples with his fingers. He was just beginning to doze off again when an image of Freyja flashed across his mind. He bolted upright, immediately regretting it when his head screamed in protest. He'd said that she was his. He hit his fore-head with his fist at the realisation that she was going to hate him even more now.

_Foolish man, with all the foolish things you do_, he scolded himself. He was thinking up a suitable apology when someone knocked on his door.

"Come in," he called, grabbing for some clothes.

Skjor frowned at him from the doorway, "Kodlak wants to see you. Don't keep him waiting."

Vilkas nodded and dressed quickly, splashing his face with water in the hopes of not looking too haggard. When he brushed his hand over his mouth, he could still feel Freyja's lips, plump and warm. The skin tingled slightly, begging for more attention. He shook the feeling off and walked over to the Harbinger's quarters. He didn't miss the angry glare that Farkas sent him, but he tried to ignore it. His twin was more than a little sweet on the girl and when the door to Kodlak's room was pulled wide, he could see why. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in messy curls, her eyes were as bright as he'd ever seen them and she was smiling. Not just politely, but really smiling, carefree and sweet as honey. She was cutting an apple with her dagger, but when she met his eye, it slipped slightly.

"Ah, Vilkas, good of you to join us. Please take a seat," Kodlak greeted him with nod.

He pulled a chair up and sat by Freyja. She didn't seem angry, she didn't even seen to care. He was still staring when the Harbinger caught his attention with a pat on his arm.

"So, now that the two of you are here, I think it's time to tell you of my plans. As you know, there has been a little unrest in the Rift. Bandits and thugs, all the usual problems." Kodlak reached for his tankard and sipped at his water. "We have been called down to help, and I could think of no one better to go than our newest Companion."

Freyja beamed at him and swallowed her food. "I'd be glad to."

"I'm happy to hear it," Kodlak turned to him. "Vilkas, you will be her shield-brother for this mission."

"What?" Was the joint response from the two young Companions. It was a small slight to be chosen to accompany someone on such a petty quest.

"I thought Farkas was my shield-brother," said Freyja quietly.

"He is indisposed. You will go with Vilkas and that is the end of it. Set off this evening, if you please," the old man replied, excusing them with a wave of his hand.

They both got up and left in silence.

Vilkas turned to her after a moment, "I'm sorry."

She looked up at him with her brows pulled together and wrinkled her nose prettily. "Don't be. You don't want to go as much as I don't want you to be there. We best get packing." She gave him a half-hearted smile and walked off to her room.

_Not about that, you stupid girl,_ he wanted to shout after her, but he restrained himself. Then it hit him. She didn't remember. She didn't remember any of it

* * *

_A/N Hullo. c: Sorry it's taking so long to upload, but I want my chapters to be longer and this is the price you pay. Thanking my amazing beta Heiwako again, because I'm secretly in love with her. Shhh. Please leave a review I always reply and I adore knowing what you all think._


	5. Chapter 5

**Valor**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Freyja hooked her sack over her shoulder and walked out of the living quarters. She kept her eyes on her boots, not noticing Vilkas until she smacked her head into his chest plate.

He took hold of her arms and grimaced, "Watch where you're going."

Looking up into his grey eyes, she tried to gauge his mood. She looked back down to her shoes and wriggled her toes. "I've got a hole in my boot," she exclaimed with a smile.

Vilkas softened a little and glanced at her feet, then back to her face.

"I'll have to buy some more in Riften, don't let me forget," she said.

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly. There were plenty of things he wished to remind her of, but now was not the time. She frowned at him, then nodded towards the door. He followed her out and quickly relished the mild evening breeze. Freyja wrapped a cloak around herself, checked that her war-axe was well fastened and jogged down the steps to the Wind district. Vilkas trailed a few steps behind, watching her buy an apple from Carlotta. He wanted to talk to her about the other night, but she seemed to not think that it was important. It unsettled him to think that she didn't want to talk about it, and it unsettled him even more that he cared.

Once they were both out of the main gate, Freyja jumped down from the wall, across the battlements and into the field by the stables, to where her horse was tethered. She walked over to Frost and stroked his nose, feeding him an apple as she did so. He bowed his head and snorted happily as she kissed his brow.

Vilkas walked up behind Freyja and patted her horse's neck. She looked at him a moment before whispering into Frost's ear.

"Are you talking to your horse?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just telling him I love him and I'll be back soon."

Vilkas stared at her like she had just claimed her mother was a hagraven. "You don't have to get your horses to like you. They'll do what you want regardless."

"I know I don't have to," she shrugged, "but the poor beast deserves it."

She kissed Frost once more before making her way over to the carriage. She held her hand out to Vilkas for the fare which he grudgingly gave up after a moment. The driver, Bjorlam, smiled warmly at Freyja when she approached him. "Ah, there you are girl. Where to?"

"Riften, please. How's your wife? Did she get my letter?" Her eyes were bright as she clambered into the back of the wagon and leaned over the front to talk to the older Nord. Vilkas climbed in after her and settled onto the bench opposite Freyja, resting his sword on his lap.

"Aye, she did, wanted me to thank you and all."

"Tell her it was my pleasure," she grinned and sat back in her seat. She leaned against the side of the wagon, soaking up the heat as Bjorlam kicked his horse into a leisurely walk.

* * *

Robb pushed the heavy doors of High Hrothgar and they opened with a long groan. The metal was cool under his palms, raising goose pimples all along his arms. He stepped outside, being careful of where he placed his feet as the steps were slick with a thick layer of wet ice. The cold wind was biting at his nose and the skin was becoming numb and sore. He longed for the warmth of a fire, or of the girl from his youth. He could swear the air whispered her name each time he took a breath. Her irises were all he saw when he looked into the depths of a stream, her laughter all he heard when he thought of her voice. The shallow dimples that appeared on her cheeks when she smiled haunted him. The way she sighed his name when he was buried deep inside her. _You ruined that by burying yourself in her sister, you fool. _He squeezed his eyes shut before correcting himself, _and plenty others_. He remembered so clearly the night she turned him from her bed, he had come to her smelling so strongly of drink and sex. Sweet Freyja looked at him with such pain and disgust, silent tears welling in her eyes.

With a shake of his head he tried to clear the thoughts from his mind. There was no point in focusing on the mistakes of his past. She was probably the wife some man who was true and kind to her, just like she deserved. He trudged through the snow, his boots leaving deep footprints in the white powder. He had plenty to think on, even now he heard the Greybeards proclamation as if it bounced in chant through the mountains. "You are Dragonborn."

* * *

After a short stop in Riverwood, during which Vilkas was sure Freyja rutted with the dark-haired barkeep, they were back on their way to Riften. He wasn't sure why his pride smarted at the idea of her body tangled with another since he was yet to even lay with her. More often he wanted to throttle her than fuck her. Even now as he watched the night breeze whip some of her fallen hair around her face, he felt as though he'd be doing the world a favour by twisting his dagger in her belly. As if she sensed his eyes on her, Freyja turned and smiled warmly at him, revealing two small dips in her cheeks that he had failed to notice before. The gesture caused his jaw to clench and his throat to tighten uncomfortably until he coughed and looked away. She pressed her lips together and he could only hope that she was recalling their kiss. He wanted that to hang over her forever, to hell with her claim of no emotion.

Freyja stared at Vilkas a while longer. although she knew that he was thinking of pushing her from a great height, she still fancied the idea of trailing lazy kisses over his carved chest until she had him completely at her mercy. Despite her attempts at forgetting the whole horrid business of the momentary dance of tongues they shared it had not worked. He seemed slighted by her lack of interest in the subject and even had the audacity to glare after she took her pleasure with another man. True, she had only chosen the barkeep because he held an uncanny resemblance to Vilkas, but he did not need to know that. She inwardly cringed at herself for not thinking of Farkas. She wished greatly that she could return his affections, but the boy deserved better ten-fold. The sooner he was aware of the fact the better.

Freyja lay down horizontally on her bench, facing the wooden edge. She wrapped her cloak further around herself and huddled into the woollen warmth. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes and drifted slowly into a light sleep.

Vilkas watched Freyja's lithe figure rise and fall as she breathed in her sleep. Her hair was tied back again, displaying the tanned column of her neck. He wanted to run his tongue along her skin and taste her all over.

"You shouldn't look at a woman like that. It isn't decent," Bjorlam's voice broke him from his fantasizing.

Turning towards the old man, he cocked an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"So you should," he bristled. "She's like a daughter to me and you seem to me like you are thinking about dragging her off and romping in the woods. I pray you don't. That girl is worth more than that. She doesn't need to be discarded again."

The last word of the carriage driver's chiding piqued his interest. "It is a lot more likely she would be the one to discard me. Who left her before?"

"That isn't my place to say, boy. She is gentle, though she hides it well."

Vilkas snorted, "Oh yes, how kindly it was of her to kiss me and then forget."

Bjorlam grumbled something and quite quickly Vilkas' patience with the old man had run dry. He kept his eyes on the road for any sign of danger and tried to stop staring at the girl's back. He wished she didn't vex him so. He didn't _want_ to think about her at all, but it seemed that his brain had taken the task on without his consent. Surely she knew that she was attractive, that men desired her. Most of the time, if she was not actively seeking out pleasures of the skin for herself then she was completely oblivious to any interest shown to her. _Stupid stubborn woman_. It irked him that he wanted her between the sheets, for the idea of being around her made him want to slit his throat. Oh well, they were stopping in Ivarstead soon. He would only have to endure her agitating sighs for a little while longer.

* * *

Robb wandered idly across the cobbled bridge that connected the Throat of the World to Ivarstead. Klimmek was waiting at the end for him to relay the details of his conversation with the Greybeards. After a few moments of chatting, the chill in the night air got to him. He excused himself from the other Nord and headed off towards the inn. The stars shone brightly in the clear sky, which left behind a frost that turned the leaves crisp and glassy. Secunda and Masser loomed over him, dominating the midnight sky with their faint red glow. He watched on as a few of the patrons staggered home in the moonlight. Two lovers were pressed firmly against one another, groping blindly. An older man was shouting at some young boy, claiming that he was stealing his daughter away. It angered him to remember of when he had told Freyja's father that he wanted her hand. Her father had slicked back his greasy hair and grinned with his yellow teeth, before demanding that he paid a dowry of sorts. The words had made him feel sick, and still did now.

Robb found a seat by the bar and drank his way through an ale with ease. The buxom bard was sending him inviting looks but he couldn't bring himself to return her seductive smiles. She was pretty, built for a man's pleasure, but her eyes were only a dull blue. They held a multitude of seductive promise, but didn't shine the way his sweetheart's once had. He cast his gaze to the others just as a fully armoured man bustled in with a small woman hidden by her cloak. The conversation they were having seemed heated until the girl turned her back to him and dropped her hood, gesturing the innkeeper over with a beckon of her two fingers. Her shiny chestnut hair was pulled loosely away from her face and the shirt she was wearing hugged her body in places that brought her companion's eyes straight toward her chest. Seemingly bored, she looked around the room until her sight connected her with his. He watched as her whole body stiffened and she stopped breathing. _Freyja_.

* * *

_A/N Well hello there ladies and gentlemen. Apologies for taking ages and for it being so short, hope you enjoyed. Thanking my great beta **Heiwako** again for her priceless input. Please leave reviews!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Valor**

**Chapter Six**

_A/N Shh I know it's about three months late and pretty short. Happy New Year! Thanks for all reviews and favourites. :)_

* * *

_The Divines surely must like to meddle in the pitiful affairs of us mortals,_ Freyja thought as she spun around. Trying to ignore a vast approaching ex-lover she asked for the room with two beds and handed over the correct coin in return for a key.

At that moment Robb chose to make his presence known and cleared his throat loudly. Freyja looked at her former-betrothed with an expression she hoped resembled faint disgust. She would have found it easier to achieve, had the years not been so kind to him. His dirty blonde hair was slightly too long and flopped over his dark brown eyes, both framed by thick, long lashes. His jaw had become more chiseled over time and the hours out in the sun of Cyrodiil had given his skin a golden hue. Robb had always been a strapping lad in his youth but now he owned an arresting beauty. He only stood three inches or so smaller than Vilkas despite being over five years younger than him. Freyja had half-hoped he'd swindle away everything he had on gambling and would return to Skyrim a husk of a man who was forever questioning where his life had gone so wrong. Unfortunately this was not the case. Judging by his bulking muscles, he had spent his time well.

Pulling her lips into a honey-sweet smile she pushed aside her initial shock and looked up into his warm chocolate gaze, "Robb, what a surprise."

"Freyja," he whispered. She tried to forget the way his voice had always curled around her name, but it was difficult in the proximity. His tone was lower now, more masculine and gravelly.

"So you're back from Cyrodiil. We all thought you wouldn't be coming back." _Some of us wish you'd fallen off the White Gold Tower._

"I was planning on it, but I missed home."

"Skyrim is a cruel mistress; do be careful when you're out doing whatever it is you do now." He smiled down at her. He had a lovely smile. It was so open, and if she didn't know better she would have said he regretted leaving her in the first place. She would have stared at him all night had Vilkas not reminded her he was there with a poke in the ribs and tired grimace. "Anyway, we best be getting to sleep. It was…" she paused, searching for the right word, "interesting, to see you again. Good evening."

Robb's face fell and he shot a furiously aggressive look at Vilkas. He grabbed Freyja's arm as she made to leave and his face looked so hurt that she was rendered motionless. "Please do not part from me as though we were little more than acquaintances. Stay and eat with me, at least, please."

She pulled her arm from him and gave a quick nod, before walking into her room and shutting the door firmly behind her. She sat on the bed and held her head in her hands. Eating with or even near Robb would not help in the slightest. He had not changed, the situation had not changed, all was the same and she didn't want to spend any more time with him than was completely necessary. She opened her pack and looked for a neater shirt and nearly screamed in frustration. All she put hands on was dirty and smelled of smoke and sex. Oddly enough, when setting out on a quest which would most likely involve crawling through caves and cutting throats, she hadn't thought to pack a dress. She ripped the laces out of her bodice and pulled her tunic over her head just as Vilkas entered the room.

"Stop staring and get your armour off."

Vilkas' mouth set into a slow, smirk. "I'm very tired, so we couldn't go more than twice."

Freyja rolled her eyes and tied up her top, "You know what I mean."

"Why do I have to be ready? He invited _you_ to supper, not me."

"I don't care. I need you there."

"No. I just want to sleep. You got to rest on the way here I had to stay on watch." He struggled to get his chest plate over his head until Freyja pushed him down to sit on the bed and took off his gauntlets. She fiddled with the buckles on his armour until they were all loose and she could set it aside. He stared at her while she worked and resisted the urge to brush her hair over her ear.

"Please, Vilkas. It's a free meal, where's the harm?" She smiled at him and pleaded with her eyes.

He groaned and looked away. "Fine."

Freyja grinned and pulled him into a hug, "Thank you," she squealed, and kissed him noisily on the cheek. He smiled as she pulled him to his feet, "We won't stay for long, I promise."

Robb stood as soon as he saw Freyja approach and smiled brightly. It dimmed slightly when he saw that she had brought Vilkas, but frankly she didn't really care.

"Robb, this is Vilkas, I don't believe I introduced you before."

"No, but I'm glad to learn your name now." For his part, Vilkas remained silent and only nodded. Freyja sat down and pulled him next to her, then motioned for two meads.

"So, Freyja. What brings you to Ivarstead?"

"We are travelling to Riften," she answered, taking a drink from her bottle.

"Oh, are you to be married?" Freyja couldn't contain her laughter and even Vilkas let out a throaty chuckle.

"No, I'm afraid not. I fear Vilkas would rather die."

"So you're not involved at all?"

"No, not at all. We are Companions from Whiterun. Out on business."

Seemingly cheered by her announcement Robb ordered three stews and relaxed into his seat. "How are your parents?"

Freyja shifted in her seat, "Dead." She hadn't been close to her mother and father at all, but she cared a little because the necromancers hadn't killed them cleanly.

"How did they take it when you told them of the betrothal?"

_They were hateful and cruel. I was thrown out and had to scratch a living off anything I could find. _"They weren't happy, but, as you can see, I survived."

Robb swallowed before he asked his next question, "And your sister?"

Freyja's expression turned cold. Her sister was everything she wasn't and exactly the kind of person Robb decided he wanted instead of her. She smiled to hide her hurt, "Susanna is a barmaid in Windhelm. I do not see her often, I'm sure she'd like to see you again."

Vilkas took that moment to interrupt, "You two were engaged to be married?"

Freyja look at him angrily, "For a time, yes."

"You mustn't have been older then seventeen."

"We weren't," she wrinkled her nose, "It was foolish."

Robb seemed hurt, but their food came so his brooding was cut short. The meal continued in strained silence.

Vilkas watched as Robb tried to make conversation with Freyja. She was polite but not friendly, cold but not rude. The boy was hanging onto every word that fell out of her mouth as if he couldn't believe she was even sitting on the opposite side of the table from him. He was undeniably comely, but Vilkas thought Freyja could have found better for herself. Despite how in love with her the boy was, clearly however he had wronged her in the past wasn't going to be forgiven anytime soon. His eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, so he caught Freyja's attention and gestured to the room. She seemed grateful and smiled at him.

"We really must be going now. Goodnight, Robb."

He stood quickly, "I want to see you again. Alone. I need to apologise, about everything. I haven't stopped thinking about you; the littlest thing reminded me of your face. I've missed you, Frey. I've really missed you."

Vilkas grabbed Freyja's hand and made her look up at him, "Come on, you need your rest." She followed him blindly into their room.

"Why did you do that?" she asked once he let her go.

"It's not that I think he is lying, he may well have missed you greatly, but whatever he did that made you hate him, he will undoubtedly do again."

"He fucked my sister." Vilkas sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders.

"Next time it may not be your sister, but it will happen."

She shook away from him and glared, "You don't know that."

"Freyja, don't make that mistake. Show him you don't need him anymore."

He threw off his shirt and got into bed. A moment later he heard her shuffling around and then her bed creaked. Freyja blew out the candle and they were plunged into darkness.

Sometime in the night, Vilkas woke from one of his wolf dreams. On his way outside to cool himself, he passed his companions bed, only to find it empty. The main hall was empty apart from the barkeep who was nearly falling asleep on his counter. He walked by the end bedroom and stopped abruptly. The door was slightly ajar and in the flickering light he saw two figures, who could only be Freyja and Robb. It wasn't the clumsy lovemaking of two strangers who had just met; it was the joining of two people who knew each other's bodies. Each curve was memorised and each sweet spot already discovered. For lack of a better phrase, it looked fucking good. And what angered Vilkas the most was that he wanted that. Not with just anyone. He wanted that with Freyja, and he really didn't want someone like Robb, stopping him.

With this discovery he slammed their door shut and went out into the cold midnight. After all, surely one hunt couldn't hurt?


	7. Notice

Well hello there my beautiful and avid readers!

First let me apologise profusely for the lack of activity on this story.. the main reason being I fell out of love with it for a little while. I wrote chapter seven and gave it to my beta and basically came to the conclusion it was a pile of poo, so I was a little demotivated to say the least. I swear to sweet baby Jesus that I will upload a new chapter soon enough, I haven't forgotten and I think that I may do better this time round. For the next two months I'm going to be reeaally busy with my exams and revision etc, and for that reason only I'm going to have to place my fanfiction on the back-burner. :(

Like I said, you can expect a new chapter but please please please be patient with me, I know it's annoying but I will get round to it once I secure my grades. I suppose I'm going on a mini hiatus. (I swear though I'm not Fall Out Boy and I won't make you wait four years for one measly chapter)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favourited this story, it means so much to me. All your lovely reviews are well appreciated and I'll get round to replying soon enough.

I love you all lots and lots. Please don't think I won't come back.

Carrp

P.S. To the guest who said Freyja was a hoe-bag. I'm very sorry you felt that it was a waste of your time and I wish you'd left some form of information so I could have contacted you personally and made sure I understood the point you were trying to make, I enjoy constructive criticism and think it's the only way I will grow as a writer. Sorry again.


End file.
